


Lend Me Your Thighs

by happy_waffles



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Altho I guess there’s a lil bit more in here than just thigh sex :3c, It’s exactly what the title is hinting at lol, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 20:36:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21185618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happy_waffles/pseuds/happy_waffles
Summary: Akira tries to get Mishima to choose him over his (stupid) laptop.





	Lend Me Your Thighs

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in my notes since FOREVER, and today I finally pushed myself to finish it! Because pegoshima needs more *new* content, damn it!!

“_Yuuuki_,” Akira whines, hugging his boyfriend from behind. “ _Yuuuuuukiiiiii_.”

Mishima continues to ignore him. He has a website to run, after all—Akira was just going to have to wait.

Akira sighs.  _Beaten by a laptop, _he thinks, burying his face in Mishima’s shoulder.  _This sucks._

Well, it’s not like he expected much. Of course, he invited Mishima over with the intentions of doing couple-like things. Like cuddling. And some light kissing. And maybe some teasing touches here and there…

But when he saw Mishima enter his room with his laptop bag hanging from his shoulder, Akira knew there would, sadly, be no cuddling or kissing until at least an hour. That won’t stop him from trying, though.

Still, after his sixth failed attempt at getting Mishima to choose him over that  _stupid_ laptop, Akira’s feeling doubtful that he’ll ever get his boyfriend’s attention. That is, until a devilish idea pops into his head.

Mishima’s busy collecting poll data—Joker, to his delight, was a fan favorite—when he feels it.

A hand inside his shorts, stroking his left thigh.

“A-Akira!” Mishima sternly scolds, cheeks warm. Well, that’s what he  _intended_ to sound like, but, unfortunately, it came out more like a squeak, so he sounded about as threatening as a chew toy.

“What?” Akira innocently asks, his hand still on Mishima’s bare thigh.

“You  know what,” Mishima grumbles, giving him a dirty look. “I’m trying to finish something here.” He points at his laptop to further remind Akira of this (as if Akira wasn’t already cursing that damn laptop).

“So finish it.” Another hand snakes into Mishima’s shorts. “No one’s stopping you—I’m just entertaining myself while I patiently wait.”

_Ugh. _ Another one of Akira’s little games (games that Mishima tends to lose, if he’s being honest).

“‘Patiently’...yeah, right,” he mumbles, ears pink, but his composure otherwise still intact. Good, he thinks. This was one game he was going to  _win_.

And so he turns his attention back to the Phansite, determined to ignore Akira with all his might.

Noticing this, Akira grins, and decides to take the light touching of Mishima’s thighs up a notch.

Grabbing his peach-scented lotion (a gift from Ann) from a nearby shelf, Akira rubs a generous amount on his hands, warming it up, before beginning to fondle Mishima’s thighs, the lotion making his motions fast and wet. Mishima squirms and bites his lip to keep himself quiet.

Smirking, Akira starts letting his hands “slip” more, his thumbs purposely brushing against Mishima’s groin each time he grabs fistfuls of the blue-haired boy’s soft, doughy skin. (Mishima has thick thighs, and Akira thanks the god who blessed his boyfriend with such a gift).

Mishima hisses this time, causing him to press the wrong key on his laptop and curse under his breath, but other than that, his reaction was pretty minimal. 

Which was disappointing. 

Akira wanted Mishima to squeak in embarrassment, to cutely try his hardest to resist Akira until he couldn’t anymore and gives in to the pleasure,  _begging_ the raven-haired boy to touch him properly, to kiss him, to _please_ hold him, all the while backing up desperately against Akira, rubbing against his groin for some of that friction he so badly needed...

_ Ah _ _,_ Akira suddenly thinks, snapping out of his fantasy when he feels a familiar tightening sensation.

He was hard.

Here he was, massaging Mishima’s thighs, and the one to get hard was  _Akira. _(Granted, it didn’t help that he _really_ enjoyed the look and feel of Mishima’s thighs, but still).

_Fuck,_ he curses inwardly. This was just his luck. Now the game would have to pause until he took care of his situation in the bathroom, giving Mishima ample time to recover from the lewd massage and steel his resolve.

Unless...?

Akira, bold as he is, presses his hard-on against Mishima’s ass.

This undoubtedly gets his boyfriend’s attention.

“A-Akira?!” Mishima sputters, turning around with pink cheeks. “You’re...!”

“Hard, yes,” Akira finishes for him. “Your thighs,” he then murmurs against Mishima’s neck, squeezing them from inside the boy’s shorts, “can I borrow them?”

“Huh?” Mishima asks, but that’s all he had time to say before his face and stomach are pushed flat against the bed while his ass was kept up in the air.

His face begins to burn when he feels Akira pull down his shorts, revealing his Phantom Thieves-themed underwear.

Well...it would be more accurate to say it was  _Joker_-themed.

A pause.

And then Akira burts out laughing. “They sell those?!”

“Stop laughing!” Mishima starts pulling up his shorts, trying to get them back on, his ears now burning as much as his cheeks. God,  _why_ didn’t he change his underwear beforehand?! he silently screams, cursing himself.

“Wait, wait.” Akira grabs ahold of Mishima’s hand, stopping him from further hiking up his shorts. “I’m not making fun of you, I promise.”

Mishima just grunts.

“Seriously, Yuuki. I find your dorky fanboy side really cute. I’m honestly  _flattered_ that you want my face plastered on your ass.”

“ _Ohmygod_ .” But Mishima’s smiling.

“Look.” And Mishima feels Akira’s hard-on again, this time pressed between his thighs. “I’m still really hard. Maybe even harder.”

“Ok, ok, I get it,” Mishima says, his smile becoming even wider. “You have a thing for yourself.”

“_Yuuki_,” Akira pouts.

“I’m kidding.” Mishima turns his torso around slightly to shyly peck Akira on the lips. “You have a thing for dorks.”

“_Cute_ dorks,” Akira corrects him.

“Mmm,” is all Mishima says because soon, the kiss deepens. He can taste the coffee that Akira was drinking earlier on his tongue, and he’s _sure_ Akira’s tasting the curry he lovingly made for Mishima downstairs, who had scarfed it down eagerly.

Akira was getting better and better at making them and Mishima enjoyed being his go-to taste taster, but what Mishima _really_ enjoyed, he had to admit, was the domestic feel of being served a meal made by your significant other. It made him feel special, and that was nice. Really, really nice.  
  


And so, because of that and his many, many visits to Leblanc, Mishima’s developed quite a thing for curry and coffee and prods a questioning tongue against Akira’s lips, wanting to taste more of it, and Akira answers by opening up his mouth, eagerly letting Mishima explore inside.

The coffee taste practically explodes on his tongue as soon as Akira lets him inside, and Mishima starts backing up against Akira, aroused (he’s going to get turned-on the next time he smells or tastes coffee, Mishima can already tell).  


Akira then lets out a pained grunt, and Mishima, remembering that his boyfriend was erect and suffering, starts to rub against the tent more purposefully.

“_Yuuki_...,” Akira groans heavily into the kiss, face flushed.

“Yeah?”

“The thing I asked earlier...can I?”

Mishima breaks away from the kiss to lay his head back on the bed. He throws a hand back, sliding the Joker underwear off all the way down to his knees with a thumb, before looking back at Akira (with such lustful eyes, too—not that Mishima was conscious of that). “Yeah...go ahead,” he says, breathless from want.

Akira swallows heavily and audibly.

The flushed, needy look  Mishima gives him...the tantalizing view of the bare thighs he was fondling only just moments ago, all soft and plump and twitching with obvious anticipation...Akira practically pounces on Mishima, squeezing his ass before unzipping his jeans and sliding his dripping erection in between Mishima’s thighs.

Mishima then squeezes his plump thighs shut, trapping Akira’s dick in a warm, fleshy cage, and Akira thrusts into that cage, his pace desperate and frantic.

_ Good...Mishima feels so good._

But Akira didn’t want to be the only one enjoying himself, and so he starts pumping Mishima in time with his thrusts, causing both of their erections to rub off of each other in a titillating rhythm.

This catches Mishima off guard, and he gasps, squeezing his thighs even tighter together, making Akira groan in pleasure.

“Akira,” the phanboy gasps out, clutching the bedsheets for support. “Go...go faster...”

“Mm...okay.” Akira plants a quick, open-mouthed kiss between the space where Mishima’s back meets his ass, treasuring his boyfriend before he moves to wreck him.

And wreck him he did, as Mishima’s moans begin to sound hoarse, tears spilling from his eyes from the intense feeling building up in his stomach and from Akira’s quickened pace.

Akira leans in closer, licking the tears and stealing kisses, all the while still thrusting and stroking like a madman.

“Yuuki...,” he grunts into the boy’s ear, “I’m...close.”

“Same...here...” But then Mishima suddenly opens up his thighs, and Akira lets out a surprised noise as cold air brushes against his dick.

“Yuuki...?” he asks, confused. “Did...Did I  _hurt_ you? Ohmygod, I’m sor—“

“No, no. That...That isn’t it.” Mishima turns his body around fully this time. “I just want you to cum”—and now he plops himself near Akira’s lap, his hands quickly wrapping around his boyfriend’s length—“on my face instead.”

_Huh_ ?

Did...Did he hear right? Did he _really_ just hear Mishima say he wanted a  facial ?

_No...No way_ , Akira thinks, his cheeks and neck a blushing mess.  _ I ... I must of heard wrong ...! _

But when Mishima nuzzles his face against Akira’s erection, his soft, small lips stretching enthusiastically over the red, aroused flesh of his favorite phantom thief, his wonderfully wet, hot mouth milking the erection to its breaking point, Akira  _knows_ he heard right.

And it was driving him crazy.

Mishima was just so damn _eager_ to get his facial, and Akira was just so damn aroused by his boyfriend’s desperation to get one that he could _feel_ his climax bubbling up in his stomach, soon to reach the dick in Mishima’s hot, hot mouth.

“_Yuu...Yuuki!_” That was the only warning Mishima got before he was drenched in Akira’s cum, his own cum spilling onto the floor.

Mishima gives Akira’s satisfied dick a parting kiss before leaning back and licking the bit of cum near his lips. “Hmm. It’s thick. And a little bitter.” (_So this is how the Phantom leader’s cum tastes_, is what he thinks to himself, estatic. Because he was the _only_ one to know).

This snaps Akira out of his daze.

“Yuuki!!” he cries out, hiding his flushed face into his hands, embarrassed. “What was all... _that_?!” Akira gestures wildly at Mishima’s cum-soaked face.

“Ah, sorry,” Mishima shyly says, his own embarrassment catching up to him. “It’s just...It’s been a fantasy of mine to have Joker use me like that. Well...you weren’t in costume like in my dream...but it still felt really good.”

“ _Jeez_ .” Akira buries his face into the crook of Mishima’s neck. “I’ll be in costume next time,” he promises, his lips tickling Mishima’s neck and causing the boy to giggle.

“You don’t have to,” he softly says after his giggles die out, running a gentle and loving hand through his boyfriend’s black curls and smiling sweetly. “The fantasies I’m having are more about this guy called Akira than Joker these days, anyway.”

Akira feels his heart  burst with affection. God, did he love Mishima, and he was just about to tell him this while peppering the boy with kisses (who cares if he was currently covered in cum!—a little thing like that wasn’t going to stop Akira) when a  _ping_! ran throughout the room.

“Ah, my laptop!! The  _Phansite_!!” Mishima suddenly cries out, and Akira’s heart sinks. _Oh_, he thinks, disappointed. _It’s the_ _laptop that will stop me_. _Again._ “I still have to finish the update!!”

Mishima pries himself from Akira, and without pulling back on his underwear or shorts or even cleaning up the cum on his face, he goes back to work, madly typing away.

Akira sighs. He did manage to distract Mishima in the end, but he  sure didn’t feel like he won their little game.

“What am I going to do with you?” the raven-haired boy fondly asks, shaking his head. He gently pulls on Mishima’s clothes for him (while helping himself to his boyfriend’s thighs here and there) and quickly wipes off the cum before it gets any drier.

“Thanks,” Mishima beams, turning to give Akira a quick peck on the lips. “You’re really the best, Akira.”

_Aaaah_, Akira inwardly screams, burying his face in between Mishima’s shoulder blades.  _I really do love you, Yuuki._

Maybe cuddling with a distracted boyfriend wasn’t so bad after all.


End file.
